This is an arial view of the home and yard of the Carl Oscar Johnson home built by him on the "old Taylor Highway" about one and a half miles east of Shelley. The picture was taken in 1991.

The dirt road in this picture goes to the back area of the farm, the fields being behind the east neighbors road front property.

Family legend indicates the home was built in about 1928 while the Johnson family was living across the street in Shelley from the old Shelley Second Ward LDS Church. Legend continues that the home was ordered from Montgomery Ward, arrived as a "kit" including instructions, and was built by Carl and some of his sons. At least part of the family camped out on the property as they finished the home.

Other information about the home and farm would be greatly appreciated.

This picture was taken of the Carl & Gerda Johnson home in 2000. It has since undergone an addition to the back of the home making the top floor larger, and adding an apartment in the basement where Doris Johnson, wife of Maurice Johnson who is the son of Carl and Gerda still lives.

Look close, and you will see who owned this Milk Can. I don't know about you, but I was excited when I first saw this. It is in the possession of Carl Maurice Johnson, grandsson of Carl and Gerda, son of Maurice.

He told me that many years ago a neighbor, Arvil Millar, called him and Maurice and asked them to come over to his home. He indicated he had been digging near a ditch, and this milk can top appeared. When I heard this story, it reminded me that Carl and Gerda had farmed in several areas in Shelley, one being what some of us know as the Arvil Millar Farm, just past the old railroad tracks on the road going east out of Shelley.

Another view of the milk can. Seeing this brought back memories of one of my "jobs" as a daughter of Maurice. It was my responsibility to get the milk can cart, hook each milk can in turn out by the hiway, and return the empty can to the barn in order for Dad to fill it again, to return to the roadside where it would be picked up by the milk company. The cart looked like a handcart, without the bed, and instead, sporting a contraption that had a hook on it. I would hook the cans by the handles and trudge from the highway to the barn two or three times a day. Of course, Dad took the full cans out to the road.